In the first picture you see models of Adam Colton’s untitled work (1996) and Gert Germeraad’s Mansportret (Portrait of a Man; 2002) and in this picture you see Christien Rijnsdorp’s De hef (The Lift Bridge; 2007) and Maria Roosen’s untitled work (2011).

There are thirty five miniature models on show. These ones are models of Rondanini (2005) by André Kruijsen (current curator of the gallery) and The Observer (1996) by Berry Holslag and

here Rien Monshouwer’s Beeld (Vision/Sculpture; 1994). Although the models are all standing next to each other, they don’t really bite each other. They even look a bit like

puppets in a Punch and Judy show. I can’t get rid of that idea seeing these two untitled models of works by Jos Kruit (1997) and by the old and great Carel Visser (1994), or

this couple: Jan Snoeck’s La nostalgie de la lumière totale (The Nostalgia of Total Light; 2000) and Emo Verkerk’s Sperwer (Sparrow hawk; 2005). And again in

De Beeldengalerij van P. Struycken (P. Struycken’s Sculpture Gallery) is the official title of the Pedestal Project as it was initiated by artist Peter Struycken under the auspices of Stroom. The real sculptures

were all made for public space and they can be seen in the city centre in the two axes Kalvermarkt – Grote Marktstraat and Spui. In Kalvermarkt

if the base of the pedestal wasn’t more or less floating. And that’s a problem

with many other sculptures in the gallery, like Rien Monshouwer’s Beeld, which is constructed from the word BEELD and,

is used as a piece of street furniture, in this case a dustbin.

The rigidity with which the statues are placed at a twenty five meter distance of each other,

sometimes results in a strange situation like here with Sigurdur Gudmundsson’s work (1996). This compulsive repetition

denies the individuality of the sculptures, of course defended by the idea that all sculptures have the same pedestal and are part of the same series. But

isn’t that clear enough just by that fact?.

With Sjoerd Buisman’s Phyllotaxis (2002), its use as street furniture works quite well, the bike underlining its way of stacking. The owner of the bike, probably unknowingly,

has added to the meaning of the sculpture, while

the sculptures of the Ministry of Defence stand guard from quite another position at the other side of Kalvermarkt.

Auke de Vries’ untitled sculpture (1994) gives you

his usual aesthetics of finding harmony in unbalanced components.

In the definitive version of Emo Verkerk’s Sperwer,

the sparrow hawk has come down.

The massive and dark volume of Jan van de Pavert’s Ministerie (Ministry; 2000) referring to the former buildings of the Home Office and Ministry of Justice, may remind you of a modern version of Kafka’s Castle.

But what is it doing there next to a road sign? What has it to offer to the passers-by there and what kind of context has its environment on offer to add to the sculpture?

to stand there to show you how pieces of street furniture become street weeds, although as such they blossom well.

Refurbishment of Grote Marktstraat will be finished by the end of the year. Stroom’s website says:

“A luxurious pavement, new street furniture and a special lighting plan will create ‘The international shopping boulevard of the Netherlands’. The Sculpture Gallery of P. Struycken plays an importantrole (“een cruciale rol”- BP) in that area’s upgraded look (“bij die uitstraling”- BP).” So,

keeping up appearances, that’s what it is all about! Artists who have done their best to make valuable things for public space are just being used to decorate the coop of the strutting peacock of international consumerism. Artists, herewith your works have been declared empty!

Shown in the stupidity of a strict order of twenty five meters distance, all on the same floating pedestal which gives them an idea of instability and unimportance,

they will stand in the way of all these international people who will come all the way to The Hague’s Grote Marktstraat to drink a Starbucks and to spend, spend and spend. But of course dreams never come true.